


Bedsit Vignette

by PlaneJane



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaneJane/pseuds/PlaneJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a quiet night in at Merlin's bedsit, Arthur broaches the subject of moving in together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedsit Vignette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuzzytomato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/gifts).



In the corner of Merlin’s living area, partially hidden by the sweeping arm of the sofa and a tatty old stuffed dragon, was a stack of _Architectural Digest_ magazines. They’d been there the eighteen months Arthur had been going out with him. Only that evening, it occurred to Arthur for the very first time that the stack was getting higher. The dragon had been toppled and a pristine copy of this month’s issue was offering the chance to see inside the glamorous home of a crusty New York socialite with fake lips and an orange tan. Arthur slid it free and thumbed through the glossy pages, glancing over picture after picture of palatial parlours and beauteous boudoirs. 

Merlin lived in a shoe box. The décor was more shabby than chic; the front window vista an avenue of parked cars and overflowing wheelie bins. But the tube was three minutes walk away and there was a Chinese takeaway on the corner at the end of the street. Arthur could fill the kettle, open the fridge and fry an egg without having to move his feet and if Merlin had to squeeze past him to get to the toilet, well, that was a bonus.

This humble little place felt like home, more than anywhere than Arthur had lived his entire life. He kept some clothes in a plastic box on top of Merlin’s dresser and two coat hangers on a hook on the back of the door. In the cupboard above the sink was Arthur’s box of Alpen, next to Merlin’s Frosties. And Arthur had got quite used to the way the windows rattled when the trains went past. They didn’t even wake him anymore. 

It had never occurred to Arthur that perhaps Merlin secretly hankered for something grander — not when they spent twice as much time in Merlin’s bedsit as they did in Arthur’s flat. 

Arthur held up the magazine towards Merlin, who was folded up on the armchair opposite. “Why do you have these?”

“A few years ago my mum bought me a year’s subscription to _Back Garden Living_.”

“But you don’t have a back garden.”

“I have a window box.” 

“With your trainers in it.” 

Merlin went on undeterred, “After four issues it was discontinued and as a replacement I was sent _Architectural Digest_. I thought I’d only get them for the remainder of the year, but they just kept coming month after month after month.”

“Why don’t you throw them away?”

“Guilt. I feel like I at least ought to look at them once before I get rid of them.”

“You could cancel the subscription.”

“Then they might find out I haven’t been paying for them all this time and send me a whopping great bill.”

“They can’t do that.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Merlin seemed satisfied. (Arthur was a solicitor after all, on his way to becoming a barrister.) He stepped over the old chest that served as a coffee table as well as a repository for his record collection and joined Arthur on the sofa. 

They sat together for the best part of the next hour, flicking through at least a dozen of the lifestyle magazines. They joked and scoffed at how pristine, how unlived-in all those flats and houses looked. To Arthur, it was a travesty to call them homes. Still, he couldn’t fail to notice the disproportionate number of gay couples who graced the pages of the publication. 

“Do you think they’d do a feature on us — Camelot’s future power couple?” Arthur laughed and added theatrically, _“Merlin’s bijoux bedsit is perfectly located in the seediest quarter of Camelot, tastelessly filled with an eclectic mix of the antique and modern.”_

Merlin pulled away and said crossly, “I know this place isn’t much, but I like it and it’s all I can afford while I’m training.”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. He clutched at Merlin’s sleeve and said with urgency, “I wasn’t criticising. I love it here. I really do.” Then he paused, because it had been on his mind a while now but he wasn’t at all sure whether this was a good time to broach the subject. “But it’s a bit too small for both of us.”

“Do you want me to come over to yours more often? I could. It’s just it’s much more convenient for the hospital here.”

“I was actually thinking that maybe we could get a new place. Somewhere together. Maybe a house.”

“You want us to move in together?”

“Yes. I mean, there’s no hurry. Just think about it.”

Merlin threw the magazine to the floor, where the others were scattered beneath their feet. He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck and kissed him on the mouth soft and slow. Arthur hoped that was a ‘yes’. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer.

“You don’t have aspirations of _Architectural Digest_ , do you?” Merlin said, tipping up Arthur’s chin with his fingertip. 

His chest filled to bursting with certainty, Arthur looked right into Merlin’s bright blue eyes. “No,” he said firmly, “I just want somewhere we can call our home.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I know how much you like living here.”

“It’s a roof over my head, Arthur. Home is wherever you are.”

The window rattled as the nine o’clock to King’s Station clattered over the railway line outside. Arthur’s heart was beating its own fierce rhythm as he pushed Merlin onto his back and slid his hand under his t-shirt. 

Arthur wouldn’t mention it just yet, but he already had a mind to cut out some of the pictures from _Architectural Digest_. It would just be for inspiration — colour schemes and storage ideas. Goodness knows Merlin had no clue about that kind of thing. And maybe he would hunt out those four copies of _Back Garden Living_ while he was at it. 

Before Arthur could ponder the virtues of a charcoal barbecue over gas, Merlin undid the zip on his jeans. 

“I wouldn’t mind a bigger bed,” he mouthed into Arthur’s neck. “A four-poster.”

“Whatever you want,” Arthur panted, grinding his hips down — _as long as I get to choose the linen._

**Author's Note:**

> Written for fuzzytomato's prompt, Merlin and Arthur moving in together. Thanks for helping me over a hump, love.


End file.
